


Stress Test

by Ginia



Series: Barriers [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: BDSM, Breaking in a new bed, Day 1, Gladnis Week, M/M, Sex Stuff, This surprises no one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 13:19:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12912756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginia/pseuds/Ginia
Summary: Smirking, Gladio shoots Ignis a knowing look. “Let’s go stress test the new one before the store closes. I’m not sleeping on the couch again tonight.”“The new bed is industrial strength steel and triple reinforced mahogany,” Ignis points out. “If we break this one we may have to resort to concrete.”Gladio merely shrugs, wholly unfazed. With a gesture calculated to appear lazy, he snaps his fingers and points to the floor at his feet. “Strip and present yourself.”





	Stress Test

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first time participating in a ship week and I'm so excited! 
> 
> This work is part of a series but can absolutely be read on its own, minimal context is required. :)
> 
> Happy Gladnis Week! <33

 With a nod and a word of thanks, Ignis closes the apartment door behind the pair of delivery men. They take with them the battered and broken remains of their old bedframe and headboard. Ignis is grateful that they didn’t ask any questions about the broken supports and the cracked and warped latticework of the old bed.

Ever since what shall henceforth be known as simply The Incident, Gladio has been giggling like a preteen with his first nudey magazine. Gladiolus Amicitia. Giggling. Ignis wonders if he’s allowed to add that to his list of hard limits, because fucking Six it’s disconcerting.

“Y’know you coulda let me _try_ to get your money back under the manufacturer’s warranty,” the Shield says through a shit eating grin.

Ignis shoots a pointed glare at Gladio from over the top of his glasses. “And how precisely would you have explained away the damage? Sir?” He amends quickly.

When Gladio just shrugs and continues to grin his face off Ignis persists. “You could see my bloody handprints in the headboard.”

When Gladio doubles over with a roar of laughter, Ignis lifts his hands into the air in exasperation.  “You _wanted_ to tell them, didn’t you?”

Gladio gasps, composing himself, and manages to speak around a mouthful of laughter. “I mean, it was pretty fuckin’ impressive. Can’t blame me for wantin’ to brag.”

Ignis’s lips twitch despite himself. He really wants to be angry, he _really_ does. It had been utterly humiliating when their downstairs neighbor had knocked on their door, wondering if they were okay after hearing an unholy crash from their apartment. It had been downright mortifying when the delivery men with the replacement bed had eyed the damage to the old one with knowing smirks on their stupid faces. And bloody hell, he had liked his old bed. His décor had been carefully selected to infuse his apartment with a sense of timeless elegance with each piece complimenting the other. Now he’d been forced to order a different, sturdier-looking bed.

But sweet Six, he’d probably endure it all again if it meant being as thoroughly fucked as he’d been that night. As experienced as Ignis has become, even he had needed a careful massage and several potions before he could so much as crawl afterwards—which Gladio wrote off as a happy side effect, since he loves watching Ignis’s lithe body elegantly slinking around their apartment on all fours.   

Smirking, Gladio shoots Ignis a knowing look. “Let’s go stress test the new one before the store closes. I’m not sleeping on the couch again tonight.”

“The new bed is industrial strength steel and triple reinforced mahogany,” Ignis points out. “If we break this one we may have to resort to concrete.”

Gladio merely shrugs, wholly unfazed. With a gesture calculated to appear lazy, he snaps his fingers and points to the floor at his feet. “Strip and present yourself.”

A shiver of excitement races down Ignis’s spine. There’s a dark, almost smoky quality infused in Gladio’s voice at times like this. It’s a tone that promises pleasure and debasement, and not necessarily in equal measure.

Deft fingers make quick work of the dress shirt and jeans Ignis had donned in anticipation of the delivery men. When home he typically foregoes socks and underwear, per Gladio’s preference. It takes little time, therefore, for him to strip himself bare before his Dom’s assessing gaze and present himself on his knees, at Gladio’s feet. Where he belongs. 

“Very good, pet.” A large hand settles atop Ignis’s tawny head, and he sighs contentedly. He’s so accustomed to his day-to-day work going unappreciated and unremarked upon, taken for granted by people who are accustomed to having their every whim fulfilled. Gladio’s regular praise, therefore, goes right to his heart, right to his soul, and frankly right to his cock.

Rough fingers card through his hair, flattening the previously upswept bangs. Ignis exhales slowly, relaxing by inches as Gladio methodically destroys his hairstyle. There’s just something about those first few moments of being bare before Gladio that sets Ignis on edge, and he needs that comforting touch to keep him grounded. Gladio really is so good to him, as if he’s read the instruction manual on how to tame an Ignis.

“Heel,” Gladio demands, as affectionate fingers are withdrawn. Heart hammering, Ignis obeys, gaze locked on Gladio’s retreating socked feet as he begins crawling in Gladio’s wake, humble, low, and content.

“Make the bed and then kneel by the headboard,” Gladio commands, and as is his place in the order of things, Ignis obeys him.

There’s a beautiful irony to it, Ignis muses, as he carefully stretches the sheets and a plush duvet over the bed. He’s aware that he is making the bed only for it to be utterly wrecked and soiled soon. Gladio leans against the bedroom wall, smirking while Ignis smooths the sheets with his palms and tastefully arranges decorative pillows.

When he is finished, Ignis climbs up onto the bed, the mattress dipping comfortably beneath his weight. Lithe limbs arrange themselves into an artful kneel, wrists crossed prettily at the small of his back. Gladio hums in quiet approval.

“So far so good,” Gladio muses. “Now, turn, facing the headboard.”

As Ignis moves to obey, he can hear Gladio moving about their bedroom, opening drawers, shifting through their contents. There are a few soft thumps as objects are tossed onto the mattress behind Ignis.

Without warning thick fingers wrap around Ignis’s right wrist, tugging it up to meet the latticework of their new headboard. A padded leather cuff encircles Ignis’s pale skin before being secured to the headboard by a short length of chain. His left wrist is treated in a similar fashion, cuffed and chained to the headboard a few feet away.

Ignis’s long fingers curl around a section of polished mahogany, the wood cool and perfectly smooth beneath his touch. He hopes the manufacturer didn’t cut corners in its construction, because he suspects that Gladio intends to thoroughly stress test their new purchase.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” Gladio rumbles huskily. Ignis shivers at the praise, goosebumps immediately blooming against his otherwise smooth skin. He swallows a moan and does what he can to present himself to his boyfriend, his love, his Master. Ignis shifts his knees apart, back arching with the grace of a jungle cat. It goes without saying that all Ignis is, all Ignis has, is Gladio’s for the taking if his owner can only be tempted to claim his prize.

Rough calluses scratch Ignis’s skin as Gladio trails a possessive hand along the curve of Ignis’s back, over the swell of a firm ass, and down the silken smoothness of a thigh. Ignis shivers anew at the touch.

“Hmm,” Gladio hums thoughtfully as he cups and squeezes a pert buttock. “I think you need warming up first.”

Breath hitching, Ignis arches his hips, pressing the lush swell of his ass firmly against Gladio’s touch. “If it pleases you, Sir.”

Gladio chuckles darkly as he kneads Ignis’s ass. “It does. Do you want a handprint or a nice all over glow?”

Ignis sucks in a hiss of breath, torn between two delightful forms of agony. When his answer doesn’t come quickly enough for Gladio’s liking the hand is removed from his ass to instead press lightly against his throat, strong fingers tightening their grip by small but persistent increments. Ignis knows that he has mere seconds to answer his Master’s question before his airway is too constricted for speech, and then Ignis will be in for a true punishment.

Gasping, Adam’s apple bobbing uncomfortably against Gladio’s palm, he chokes out a soft “All over, Sir!”

The hand is withdrawn as soon as Ignis has spoken and he coughs in relief.

“Very good, pet.” Ignis can hear the smirk colouring Gladio’s tone. “Handprint it is.”

Ignis sags slightly, metallic links clinking softly against the headboard. He should have known Gladio would reward his indecision like this. Not that he minds terribly, not really. Either way he gets to feel possessive hands marking him.

Usually when Gladio spanks him he uses a fraction of the extensive power sealed away in his sculpted, muscular form. The blows are evenly spread across his ass and thighs, delivered in rapid succession until the aches meld together and his pale skin glows a soft rose, burning in a delicious way that fades minute by minute.

Now, though, Ignis can swear that he hears the air whistling in the wake of Gladio’s hand as it slices through the air, straight at Ignis’s bare ass. When it connects, Gladio’s palm slams against the round of his ass, fingers splayed and stretching towards the small of Ignis’s back.

Pain lances through Ignis’s body, sharp and hot, like a brand. The force of the blow, fuelled by 250 pounds of pure muscle, rocks Ignis’s smaller frame until his chest nearly collides with the headboard before Ignis catches himself.

Gladio waits until Ignis is settled, knees dug stubbornly into the mattress before rearing back to strike him again with another firm slap, carefully aimed with military precision to hit the same place, where the skin is already tender and turning pink.

Blow after blow rain down upon Ignis’s ass, each one landing with a ferocious crack like thunder, and leaving sharp, searing pain like lightning in its wake. It almost feels as if Gladio’s hand pushes clear through his ass and out the other side, the pain pulses so deeply and precisely.

Sweat beads across Ignis’s brow and glistens across his shoulders as he strains to hold himself steady. He knows that if he twitches out of place and forces Gladio’s hand to miss its target, his Master’s retribution will be swift and merciless. A picture is being painted upon the canvas of Ignis’s flesh, one that signifies possession and submission, and he knows better than to spoil it.

The headboard creaks faintly as Ignis body rocks in the wake of each harsh spank but the triple reinforced wood does not shift.

When Gladio is finished his hand cups Ignis’s abused ass, pressing against the skin that by now must be glowing a vicious red. He hums thoughtfully, fingers shifting slightly, as if comparing the fingerprints temporarily branded into Ignis’s flesh to the actual size and shape of Gladio’s hand.

“Not bad,” Gladio finally decides, and he gives the small of Ignis’s back a few soft pats. “You did very well, my pet. Very well.”

Ignis lets out a shuddering breath he’d not realized he’d been holding in. “Thank you, Master,” he whispers as a tide of gratitude washes over him.

Gladio’s soft groan of pleasure is barely discernible as he tries to swallow it down, and Ignis smiles ever so softly. He’s been doing that more and more of late, addressing Gladio with the honorific of ‘Master’ as opposed to ‘Sir’. It was a slip of the tongue at first, one that Ignis initially found mortifying, until he started noticing Gladio’s reaction to it.

For all that Ignis knows that he is loved and respected by his partner, and as much as they are a true partnership in most regards, there is no denying the thrill of excitement that tears through both of them when Ignis prostrates himself verbally and physically, acknowledging himself to be thoroughly _owned_ by the other.

“Mine,” Gladio growls softly as his touch is withdrawn. He can hear the telltale clattering of a buckle being undone and leather whispering through belt loops. Ignis whimpers, teeth digging into his bottom lip in a desperate attempt at being quiet. For a moment he thinks the worn leather might be turned against him, but then he hears the clattering of it being tossed carelessly to the floor.

The mattress dip down, springs groaning, as Gladio’s weight is added to the bed. Part of Ignis envies the bed, as irrational as it is to envy an inanimate object. But by the Six he wants to feel that mighty weight bearing down on him, crushing him as he’s used.

Oblivious to the cravings for rough use roiling around in Ignis, Gladio begins carefully, almost reverently, with his bulk looming just out of reach behind Ignis. Fingertips lightly caressing the burning outline of Gladio’s handprint on Ignis’s ass, soft breath blowing on the inflamed skin, making Ignis shiver despite the heat suffusing his body.

Gladio chuckles and presses full lips to Ignis’s hip, kissing the outline of a sharp hipbone, following the curves of supple flesh over Ignis’s ass and the backs of his thighs. Ignis whimpers, head thrown back, simultaneously reveling in Gladio’s soft, sweet kisses, while also yearning for so much more.

After several long minutes of torturously gentle kisses and nuzzles, Gladio brings his mouth to hover over Ignis’s puckered entrance and blows softly on the sensitive skin. Ignis cries out, uninhibited from the endorphins already racing through his system and it’s all he can do to stop himself from grinding back against his lover’s face. He’d made that mistake once and only once, and paid for his brashness by having his own face used as Gladio’s seat all evening.

He’s spared the impossible task of clinging to the shreds of his self-control by Gladio, who finally flicks the tip of his tongue against Ignis’s hole.

“Oh!” Ignis cries out, fingers trembling, his grip on the headboard slipping until he’s dangling limply from the cuffs.

Gladio’s tongue circles his entrance, teasing him, tracing the outline of his hole over and over again. He presses the flat of his tongue against Ignis’s entrance and Ignis shudders violently in giddy anticipation.

“You want this, pet?” Six but he can feel each movement of Gladio’s lips against him as he speaks, feels each word vibrating against the tight ring of muscle. “Want me to open you up with my mouth?”

“Please,” Ignis begs. “Please, Master, it feels so good…” His voice dissolves into a piteous moan.

Gladio flicks his tongue out, tauntingly probing at Ignis’s entrance. “Mhm, because you held still so good for me. Fuck I should get a picture of your ass before the handprint fades, it’s fucking glorious. Wish everyone could see it, see how it marks you as mine. My pet. My property.” Gladio kneads Ignis’s unmarked left ass cheek as he speaks, his lips still pressed teasingly close, close enough for the vibrations to send shockwaves of pleasure through Ignis.

The lewdest noises fill the air. Ignis whining with each touch of Gladio’s tongue against and inside his ass, the wet sounds of Gladio’s tongue and mouth working him open, and the squeaking of the bed as it accommodates the combined 400+ pounds currently writhing atop it.

By the time Gladio is finished, he can spear his tongue into Ignis’s ass and flick mercilessly at his inner walls. Ignis is tangled amid the throw pillows, clumsy and trembling, trying desperately to hold himself upright.

With a parting kiss, wet and lewd, placed squarely over Ignis’s loosened entrance, Gladio pulls back. The loss of contact sends pleas to Ignis’s lips. He would beg, suffer any debasement, endure any torment, to feel Gladio in him again. Any part of him. With his ass suddenly empty it makes Ignis painfully aware of how hard his cock is, red and swollen, dripping precome all over the pillows.

“Please, Master? Please….” Is all he manages to whimper out.

Blunt nails rake down Ignis’s back, from his shoulders to his tailbone and then over the swell of his ass, leaving raised white lines in their wake. Further marking him, further claiming him.

Gladio looms over him, his bulk tantalizingly close now, and when he speaks Ignis can feel the heat of his lover’s breath against the back of his neck. “I assume you’re saying you want to please your Master, yes pet?” Thick fingers tangle in his hair, clenching tightly, pain seeping into Ignis’s scalp. “Because that’s your priority, yes?”

Ignis squeaks out an abashed “yes Master.” He’s getting too carried away, too fixated on his own pleasure, his own desires. He needs to focus on what matters, and that’s Gladio, always Gladio.

Gladio eases back a bit and Ignis can hear him rummaging around behind him, hears the familiar snapping of a cap and the squirt of liquid. He doesn’t dare ask, merely holding himself still and beautiful, a vessel awaiting his Master’s pleasure.

The lube is still cool to the touch as something presses against his stretched opening. Ignis moans, hips arching beseechingly as a toy of some sort is eased into him. When it’s in, Gladio gives the end a little tap, and Ignis recognizes it then as a plug.

“There, that should keep you open for me,” Gladio purrs. “Now hold nice and still for me for a sec.”

Bedsprings squealing, Gladio stands up and carefully steps over Ignis, so that he’s between Ignis and the headboard, between his two bound wrists.  There’s just enough slack to the chains to allow Ignis to pull back enough to make room for Gladio, and fortunately the headboard is thick enough that Gladio can comfortably sit on it.

Ignis is suddenly eye level with Gladio’s cock, visibly straining against his still zippered pants.

Like Ignis, Gladio also grips the headboard for balance, and with an exaggerated sigh he lifts a leg, casually draping it over Ignis’s shoulder to make himself more comfortable, and, conveniently, give Ignis more room to work.

Smirking down at his pet, Gladio orders, “Unzip me.”

Wrists uselessly cuffed to the bed, Ignis obediently bows his head and roughly murmurs a “yes Master.”

Gladio’s breath hitches the instant Ignis’s mouth presses to his groin, clever teeth and tongue working at the single button before teasing the zipper down as commanded. With a bit of help from Gladio, his jeans are shucked down a few inches, enough to free his weeping cock, rock hard and ready.

“Good. Now don’t make me do all of the work. Please me.”

Eyes closing, he moans, all too eager to follow instructions. Ignis licks a slow, reverent stripe up the underside of Gladio’s cock, following the sensitive vein like a roadmap to pleasure, all the way to the tip. Pearls of precome glisten invitingly, quickly swept away by a worshipful tongue.

A low groan of pleasure falls from Gladio’s lips as Ignis probes his Master’s slit, coaxing more precome to trickle into his eager mouth.

Ignis indulges them both in several blissful minutes spent lavishing attention on Gladio’s dick with his lips and tongue. Soon Gladio is trembling, the headboard beneath him shaking in response.

“Fuck,” he groans when Ignis starts pressing the flat of his tongue against Gladio’s balls, and Ignis can hear the strain in his voice. “Stop teasing me and get on with it.”

Ignis licks Gladio’s balls one last time before obediently parting full lips and taking the head into his mouth, cradled against the velvety heat of his tongue.

Ignis knows that he must be quite the sight—Naked while Gladio is still clothed, a bright red handprint on his ass marking him as something conquered, the end of a plug protruding from his loosened ass, his wrists spread and bound helplessly to the headboard. And above him looms Gladio, one foot pressed carelessly into Ignis’s back, cock in his pet’s mouth, casually sitting up atop the headboard as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have another person serving his comfort and pleasure.

Ignis’s mouth is as eager as it is skilled. His lips form a tight seal around Gladio’s swollen cock, cheeks hollowing prettily as he guides Gladio down until the tip brushes the back of his throat. Ignis’s nose is pressed into the fine dark curls at the base of Gladio’s cock, his unique scent like leather and musk filing his senses.

For all of his talk about wanting Ignis to do all of the work, it doesn’t take long for a firm hand to press itself to the back of Ignis’s head, holding him in place while Gladio thrusts greedily into his mouth. The headboard and bedframe rock back and forth in time with his thrusts, and the foot on Ignis’s back digs in painfully as Gladio works harder to keep his balance. The discomfort is just enough to keep Ignis teetering on the edge, to keep him humble and mindful of his place, not enough to take away from the pleasure rocketing through his body. Every time the bed rocks Ignis can feel the toy shifting in him, stretching him, bumping up against sensitive muscle.

He moans contentedly around Gladio’s cock, doing his best to relax his throat as his face is thoroughly fucked. He presses the flat of his tongue up, providing extra heat and an extra source of friction for Gladio to pleasure himself on.

Before long Gladio’s powerful thighs are trembling, a signal that his release is close, so close Ignis can—literally—taste it. Precome and saliva flood his mouth, threatening to dribble down his chin.

With an almighty groan Gladio pushes Ignis roughly back as far as he can, until the chains stretch taut and the headboard shudders.

“Okay,” Gladio says, voice rough and ragged as a gravel road. “I’d say the headboard passes the test.”

He works the cuffs open, freeing Ignis’s wrists. The padded leather does a good job of ensuring that Ignis’s skin doesn’t chafe, but he still inspects his pet for marks before allowing Ignis to back up towards the middle of the bed.

“One last test. Turn around.”

Practically weak with longing at this point, Ignis shifts around on his hands and knees, pert ass presented for Gladio’s convenience. With one smooth motion the Shield removes the plug, and before Ignis has time to miss being full, the tip of Gladio’s cock is pressed to his entrance, slick with precome and saliva. There’s just enough lube left in Ignis’s ass to comfortably accommodate Gladio’s girth as he seats himself inside of Ignis in one slow but steady push.

They groan in unison, both relishing the tightness and the heat, the delicious stretch and burn. At a glance one is obviously the Master and one the servant of his pleasure, but in this both have their needs sated.

Already so close to release, Gladio wastes no time, but immediately launches into a punishing rhythm. He drapes himself over Ignis’s back, and his weight is almost enough to bend Ignis’s spine and send him crashing into the mattress. Almost. The angle is so good, though, so perfect, causing Gladio’s cock to graze his prostate on each brutal thrust that Ignis wills himself to hold them both up.

Clothed thighs collide with bare as Gladio pistons himself into Ignis over and over, grunting coarse praises into Ignis’s ear all the while.

“Yes, good pet. Fuck you feel so good. You take my cock so good. You were made for this.”

Gladio clings to Ignis’s hip with one hand, and snakes the other around Ignis’s waist to palm his pet’s neglected cock. Possessive fingers circle Ignis’s aching member, squeezing and stroking him with each thrust.

Ignis rocks in place, hips rolling smoothly to meet the harsh snaps of Gladio’s hips. The drag of Gladio’s cock in his ass, combined with the friction of his own dick sliding within Gladio’s hand is almost too much. He can feel his orgasm coiled tightly in his belly, tighter and tighter, threatening to spring free at any moment. 

The mattress groans beneath them as they rock in place, but the bedframe itself takes the abuse like a champion, merely scraping across the floor in time to their thrusts but not bowing or breaking. Even when Gladio snaps his hips forward with a primal cry and fills Ignis with his seed the metal frame remains sturdy.

Ignis almost misses the command to come, Gladio’s rough voice nearly lost beneath the squeaking of mattress springs and his own ragged breaths.

Ignis’s consciousness disappears into a white haze of pleasure. He’s dimly aware of the hot ribbons of come pouring into Gladio’s hand and his limbs turning to jelly at last, collapsing under the strain of both of their pleasure. Gladio falls with him, collapsing over him, and the bed survives what must be the equivalent of a garula jumping on it.

Ignis closes his eyes for just a moment, he swears he’s only blinked, but the next thing he knows, Gladio has tucked himself back into his jeans and is in the middle of cleaning Ignis off with a warm, damp washcloth.

“Welcome back,” Gladio rubs soothing circles into Ignis’s hip.

Ignis murmurs something incoherent that is supposed to be “I didn’t go anywhere, silly.” He doubts Gladio can understand him.

Gladio just chuckles and looks incredibly fond. “You okay? You can just thumbs up or thumbs down.”

Ignis hums and closes his eyes, taking inventory of his condition. His ass is thoroughly fucked and going to be sore, and that handprint still burns, likely to stick around for most of the evening. His back is generally sore and feels like it’s sporting a bruise from where Gladio’d dug his foot into him, and he probably has the usual purple fingerprints on his hip from where Gladio held him when they’d fucked.  Nothing to write home about. Gladio can see the marks for himself, he doesn’t need Ignis to point them out, so he flashes a thumbs up.

“Think you can walk straight?”

Thumbs down. Gladio laughs.

“I’ll run us a hot bath, that should help.” Gladio cards his fingers tenderly through sweat-slickened hair.

Gladio helps Ignis into the bath once it’s ready, for which Ignis is grateful. His back and ass are both aching, and he won’t make it into the soothing heat of the tub unaided.

Their tub is a custom job, a deep jacuzzi tub large enough to accommodate both of them. Gladio slides in behind Ignis and coaxes his love to sit up on his lap, which is probably more comfortable than the hard porcelain base of the tub.

Large hands are soon occupied with giving Ignis a backrub, soothing some of the lingering aches away. Ignis sighs contentedly, hands sliding beneath the surface of the water to absently stroke Gladio’s thigh, appreciative of the exquisite care his partner takes of him. Bit by bit Ignis comes back to himself. The hazy edges of his consciousness slip into clearer focus, and he rediscovers the capacity for human speech.

“I love you,” he murmurs for nothing in particular but also for everything. Everything Gladio is. Everything Gladio does.

“You both performed so well,” Gladio murmurs before pressing a kiss to the back of Ignis’s neck. “I’m quite pleased.”

Ignis lets out a soft sigh of relief. “I’m glad. They’ll definitely ask questions if we break another one so soon.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
